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English -Classic -Series 



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SELECTED POEMS 



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William Wordsworth. 



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7^ NEW YORK: 

Effingham Maynaed <fc Co., 

8UCCES80RS TO 

Clark & Mayxard, Publishers, 

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189b. 






13 



KELLOGG'S EDITIONS. 

SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS. 

Eacb pla£ in ©ne IDolume. 

Text Carefully Expurgated for Use in Mixed Classes. 

With Portrait^ Notes, Introduction to Shakespeare's Grammar ,* 
Examination Papers^ and Plan of Study. 

(selected.) 

By BRAINEED KELLOGG, A.M., 

Professor of the English Language and Literature in the Brooklyn Polytechnic 

Institute, and author of a " Text-Book on Rhetoric," a "Text-Book on 

English Literature" and one of the authors of Reed <& 

Kellogg 's " Lessons in English." 



The notes have been especially prepared and selected, to meet the 
requirements of School and College Students, from editions by emi- 
nent English scholars. 

"We are confident that teachers "who examine these editions will pro- 
nounce them better adapted to the wants of the class-room than any 
others published. These are the only American Editions 
of these Plays that have been carefully expurgated 
for use in mixed classes. 

Printed from large type, attractively bound in cloth, and sold .at 
nearly one half the price of other School Editions of Shakespeare, 

The following Plays, each in one volume, are now ready : 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

JULIUS Cv*ESAR. 

MACBETH. 

TEMPEST. 

HAMLET. 

KING HENRY V. 

KING LEAR. 



KING HENRY. IV., Part I. 

KING HENRY VIII. 

AS YOU LIKE IT. 

KING RICHARD III. 

A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S 

DREAM. 
A WINTER'S TALE, 



bailing price, 30 cents per copy. Special Price to Teachers. 



Full Descriptive Catalogue sent on application. 



ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES.-No. 90. 



Selections frox Wordsworth. 



WE ARE SEVEN. 

ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY. 

THE FOUNTAIN. 

MICHAEL. 

"MY HEART LEAPS UP." 

WRITTEN IN MARCH. 

TO THE DAISY. 

THE SOLITARY REAPER. 



TO THE CUCKOO. 

"SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF 

DELIGHT." 
THE DAFFODILS. 
ODE TO DUTY. 
LAODAMEIA. 
TO A SKYLARK. 
NINE SONNETS. 



JAMES H. DILLARD, M.A., 

Principal of Mary Institute, Washington University, St. Louis. 



NEW YORK: 

Effingham Maynard & Co., Publishers, 

771 Broadway and 67 & 69 Ninth Street. 



A Complete Course in the Study of English. 
Spelling, Language, Grammar, Composition, Literature. 

Reed's Word Lessons — A Complete Speller. 

Reed & Kellogg's Graded Lessons in English. 
Reed & Kellogg's Higher Lessons in English. 
Kellogg's Text-Book on Rhetoric. 

Kellogg's Text-Book on English Literature. 



In the preparation of this series the authors have had one object 
clearly in view — to so develop the study of the English language astc 
present a complete, progressive course, from the Spelling-Book to the 
study of English Literature. The troublesome contradictions which 
arise in using books arranged by different authors on these subjects, 
and which require much time for explanation in the school-room, will 
be avoided by the use of the above " Complete Course." 

Teachers are earnestly invited to examine these books. 

Effingham Maynard & Co., Publishers, 

771 Broadway, New York. 



Copyright, 1890, by 
EFFINGHAM MAYNARD & CO- 



a-yo 



William Wordsworth. 

1770-1850. 

Of greater interest than any other brief account of the poet's life 
could be, is the following outline dictated by Wordsworth him- 
self, in 1847, at the request of his nephew: 

" I was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, on April 7th, 
1770, the second son of John Wordsworth, attorney-at-law — as 
lawyers of this class were then called — and law-agent to Sir 
James Lowther, afterwards Earl of Lonsdale. 

"My mother was Anne, only daughter of William Cookson, 
mercer, of Penrith, and of Dorothy, born Crackanthorp, of the 
ancient family of that name, who, from the times of Edward the 
Third, had lived in Newbiggen Hall, Westmoreland. My grand- 
father was the first of the name of Wordsworth who came into 
Westmoreland, where he purchased the small estate of Sock- 
bridge. He was descended from a family who had been settled 
at Peniston, in Yorkshire, near the sources of the Don, probably 
before the Norman Conquest. Their names appear on different 
occasions in all the transactions, personal and public, connected 
with that parish; and I possess, through the kindness of Colonel 
Beaumont, an almery, made in 1525, at the expense of a William 
Wordsworth, as is expressed in a Latin inscription carved upon 
it, which carries the pedigree of the family back four genera- 
tions from himself. The time of my infancy and early boyhood 
was passed partly at Cockermouth, and partly with my mother's 
parents at Penrith, where my mother, in the year 1778, died of a 
decline, brought on by a cold, in consequence of being put, at a 
friend's house in London, in what used to be called ' a best bed- 
room.' My father never recovered his usual cheerfulness of 
mind after this loss, and died when I was in my fourteenth year, 
a schoolboy just returned from Hawkshead, whither 1 had been 
sent with my elder brother, Richard, in my ninth year. 

"I remember my mother only in some few situations, one of 
which was her pinning a nosegay to my breast when 1 was going 
to say the catechism in the church, as was customary before 



4 WILLIAM WOKDSWORTH. 

Easter. Au intimate friend of hers told me that she once said to 
her that the only one of her five children about whose future life 
she was anxious was William; and he, she said, would be remark- 
able either for good or for evil. The cause of this was that I was 
of a stiff, moody, and violent temper; so much so that I remem- 
ber going once into the attic of my grandfather's house at Penrith, 
upon some indignity having been put upon me, with an intention 
of destroying myself with one of the foils which I knew was 
kept there. I took the foil in hand, but my heart failed. Upon 
another occasion, while I was at my grandfather's house at Pen- 
rith, along with my eldest brother, Richard, we were whipping 
tops together in the large drawing-room, on which the carpet 
was only laid down upon particular occasions. The walls were 
hung round with family pictures, and I said to my brother, ' Dare 
you strike your whip through that old lady's petticoat?' He re- 
plied, 'No, I won't.' 'Then,' said I, ' here goes !' and I struck 
my lash through her hooped petticoat; for which, no doubt, 
though I have forgotten it, I was properly punished. But, pos- 
sibly from some want of judgment in punishments inflicted, I 
had become perverse and obstinate in defying chastisement, and 
rather proud of it than otherwise. 

" Of my earliest days at school I have little to say, but that they 
were very happy ones, chiefly because I was left at liberty then, 
and in the vacations, to read whatever books I liked. For exam- 
ple, I read all Fielding's works, Don Quixote, Gil Bias, and any 
part of Swift that 1 liked — Gulliver's Travels, and the Tale of a 
Tub being both much to my taste. 

"It may be, perhaps, as well to mention that the first verses 
which I wrote were a task imposed by my master — the subject, 
The Summer Vacation; and of my own accord I added others 
upon Beturn to School. There was nothing remarkable in either 
poem; but I was called upon, among other scholars, to write 
verses upon the completion of the second centenary from the 
foundation of the school in 1585, by Archbishop Sandys. These 
verses were much admired — far more than they deserved; for 
they were but a tame imitation of Pope's versification, and a little 
in his style. This exercise, however, put it into my head to 
compose verses from the impulse of my own mind, and I wrote, 
while yet a school-boy, a long poem running upon my own ad- 
ventures and the scenery of the country in which I was brought 



WILLIAM A\ ORDSWORTH. 5 

up. The onl} r part of that poem which has been preserved, is the 
conclusion of it, which stands at the beginning of my collected 
poems. 

"In the month of October, 1787, I was sent to St. John's College, 
Cambridge, of which my uncle, Dr. Cookson, had been a fellow. 
The master, Dr. Chevallier, died very soon after; and, according 
to the custom of the time, his body, after being placed in the 
coffin, was removed to the hall of the college, and the pall spread 
over the coffin was stuck over by copies of verses, English or 
Latin, the composition of the students of St. John's. My uncle 
seemed mortified when, upon inquiry, he learned that none of 
these verses were from my pen, 'because,' said he, 'it would 
have been a fair opportunity for distinguishing yourself.' I did 
not, however, regret that I had been silent on the occasion, as I 
felt no interest in the deceased person, with whom I had no in- 
tercourse, and whom I had never seen but during his walks in 
the college grounds. 

"When at school, I, with the other boys of the same standing, 
was put upon reading the first six books of Euclid, with the ex- 
ception of the fifth; and also in algebra I learnt simple and quad- 
ratic equations; and this was for me unlucky, because I had a 
full twelve months' start of the freshmen of my year, and ac- 
cordingly got into rather an idle way, reading nothing but clas- 
sical authors according to my fancy, and Italian poetry. My 
Italian master was named Isola, and had been well acquainted 
with Gray, the poet. As I took to these studies with much in- 
terest, he was proud of the progress I made. Under his correc- 
tion I translated the Vision of Mirza, and two or three other pa- 
pers of the Spectator, into Italian. In the month of August, 1790, 
I set off for the Continent in companionship with Robert Jones, 
a Welshman, a fellow-collegian. We went staff in hand, with- 
out knapsacks, and carrying each his needments tied up in a 
pocket handkerchief, with about twenty pounds apiece in our 
pockets. We crossed from Dover, and landed at Calais on the 
eve of the day when the king was to swear fidelity to the new 
constitution, an event which was solemnized with due pomp at 
Calais. On the afternoon of that day we started, and slept at 
Ardres. For what seemed best to me worth recording in this tour, 
see the Poem of my own Life. 1 

1. The Prelude, finished in 1805, and first published in 1850. 



6 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 

" After taking my degree in January, 1791, I went to London, 
stayed there some time, and then visited my friend Jones, who 
resided in the Yale of Clwydd, North Wales. Along with him, 
I made a pedestrian tour through North Wales, for which also 
see the poem. 

"In the autumn of 1791 I went to Paris, where I stayed some 
little time, and then went to Orleans, with a view of being out 
of the way of my own countrymen, that I might learn to speak 
the language fluently. At Orleans, and Blois, and Paris, on my 
return, I passed fifteen or sixteen months. 

"It was a stirring time. The king was dethroned when I was 
at Blois, and the massacres of September took place when I was 
at Orleans. But for these matters see also the poem. I came 
home 2 before the execution of the king, and passed the subse- 
quent time among my friends in London and elsewhere 3 , till I 
settled with my only sister at Racedown, in Dorsetshire, in the 
year 1796. 4 Here we were visited by Mr. Coleridge, then resid- 
ing at Bristol; and for the sake of being near him when he had 
removed to Nether- Stowey, in Somersetshire, we removed to Al- 
foxden, three miles from that place. This was a very pleasant 
and productive time of my life. Coleridge, my sister, and I set 
off on a tour to Linton and other places in Devonshire; and in 
order to defray his part of the expense, Coleridge on the same 
afternoon commenced his poem of The Ancient Mariner; in 
which I was to have borne my part, and a few verses were writ- 
ten by me, and some assistance given in planning the poem; but 
our styles agreed so little, that I withdrew from the concern and 
ho finished it himself. 

" In the course of that spring I composed many poems, most of 
which were printed at Bristol, in one volume, 5 by my friend, 

2. In 1792. At this time Wordsworth was a republican, and in a letter to 
the Bishop of Llandaff advocated the abolition of the English monarchy and 
peerage. 

3. In 1793 two short poems (Descriptive Sketches and An Evening Walk) 
were published, but they attracted little notice. 

4. In 1795 Word worth received a legacy of £900 from his friend, Raisley 
Calvert. 

5. The ^Lyrical Ballads. — " Mr. Cottle printed an edition of five hundred 
copies; but he says the sale was so slow, and the severity of most of the 
reviews so great, that its progress to oblivion seemed certain. He disposed 
of most of the five hundred volumes at a loss to a London bookseller, and 
the copyright being valued at nil, Cottle presented it to Wordsworth. Yet 
the first piece in this collection was Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, and the 
concluding poem, Wordsworth s exquisite lines on revisiting Tin tern Abbey." 
Eric. Brit. Prof. Dowden has published (1890) a reprint of this first edition 
of the Lyrical Ballads. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 7 

Joseph Cottle, along with Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, and two 
or three other of his pieces. 

"In the autumn of 1798, Mr. Coleridge, a friend of his, Mr. 
Chester, my sister, and I crossed from Yarmouth to Hamburg, 
where we remained a few days, and saw several times Klopstock, 
the poet. Mr. Coleridge and his friend went to Ratzburg, in the 
North of Germany, and my sister and I preferred going south- 
ward; and for the sake of cheapness, and the neighborhood of 
the Hartz Mountains, Ave spent the winter at the old imperial city 
of Goslar. The winter was perishingly cold — the coldest of the 
century; and the good people with whom we lodged told me one 
morning that they expected to find me frozen to death, my little 
sleeping-room being immediately over an archway. However, 
neither my sister nor I took any harm. 

" We returned to England in the following spring, and went to 
visit our friends, the Hutchinsons, at Sockburn-on-Tees, in the 
county of Durham, with whom we remained till the 19th of De- 
cember. We then came on St. Thomas's day, the 21st, to a small 
cottage 6 at Town-end, Grasmere, which, in the course of a tour 
some months previously with Mr. Coleridge, I had been pleased 
with and had hired. This we furnished for about a hundred 
pounds, which sum had gone to my sister by a legacy from her 
uncle, Crackanthorp. I fell to composition immediately, and 
published in 1800 the second volume of the Lyrical Ballads. 

"In the year'1802, I married Mary Hutchinson, 7 at Brompton, 
near Scarborough, to which part of the country the family had 
removed from Sockburn. We had known each other from child- 
hood, and had practiced reading and spelling with the same old 
dame at Penrith, a remarkable personage, who had taught three 
generations, of the upper classes generally, of the town of Pen- 
rith and its neighborhood. 

" After our marriage, we dwelt, together with our sister, at 
Town-End, where three of our children were born. 8 In the 
spring of 1808, 9 the increase of our family caused us to move to 

6. Called Dove Cottage. 1709. 

7. In 180-2 the then Earl of Lonsdale paid a debt due by his father to the 
Wordsworths. The poet and his sister Dorothy received about £1800 each. 

8. In 1803 Wordsworth made a tour through Scotland. In 1807 he pub- 
lished two new volumes, which were reviewed and ridiculed by Jeffrey in 
the Edinburgh Review. 

U. About this time the Excursion (published in 1814) was finished. The 
publication of an essa}' in this year, showed that Wordsworth had given up 



8 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 

a larger Louse, then just built, Allan Bank, in the same vale; 
where our two younger children were born, and who died at the 
rectory, the house we afterwards occupied for two years. They 
died in 1812, and in 1813 we came to Rydal Mount, 10 where we 
have since lived with no further sorrow until 1836, when my 
sister became a confirmed invalid, and our sister, Sarah Hutchin- 
son, died. She lived alternately with her brother and with us." 
Wordsworth died April 23, 1850. 

his "republican dreams." He was "henceforward conservative of. all 
time-honored institutions in church and state." To Shelley this seemed an 
abandonment of the cause of "truth and liberty." See his poem To Words- 
worth, and also Browning's Lost Leader. 

10. The poet was appointed, in 1813, distributor of stamps for the County 
of Westmoreland, at a salary of £500 a year. In 1837 he resigned this 
position to his son From 1820 to 1837, Wordsworth at various times made 
visits to Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Belgium, Holland, and Italy. In 1839 
he received from Oxford the degree of D.C.L. In 1843 he was appointed 
Poet Laureate. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 



We are Seven. 

A simple child, 

That lightly draws its breath, 
And feels its life in every limb, 

What should it know of death? 

I met a little cottage girl: 

She was eight years old, she said ; 
Her hair was thick with many a curl 

That clustered round her head. 

She had a rustic, woodland air, 

And she was wildly clad ; 10 

Her eyes were fair, and very fair : 

Her beauty made me glad. 

" Sisters and brothers, little maid, 

How many may you be ?" 
" How many? Seven in all," she said, 

And, wondering, looked at me. 

" And where are they? I pray you tell." 
She answered, " Seven are we ; 
And two of us at Conway dwell, 

And two are gone to sea. 20 

tc Two of us in the church-yard lie, 
My sister and my brother ; 
And, in the church-yard cottage, I 
Dwell near them with my mother." 

10. Conway, in Wales. Wordsworth was living: at Alfoxden when the 
poem was written. He had met the little girl fivejears before, while on a 
walking tour. 

9 



10 SELECTIONS FfifOM WORDSWORTH. 

" You say that two at Conway dwell, 
And two are gone to sea, 
Yet ye are seven ! — I pray you tell, 
Sweet maid, bow this may be." 

Then did the little maid reply, 

" Seven boys and girls are we ; 30 

Two of us in the church-yard lie, 

Beneath the church-yard tree." 

" You run about, my little maid, 
Your limbs they are alive; 
If two are in the church -yard laid, 
Then ye are only five." 

" Their graves are green, they may be seen," 

The little maid replied, 
" Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, 

And they are side by side. 40 

" My stockings there I often knit, 
My kerchief there I hem ; 
And there upon the ground I sit — 
I sit and sing to them. 

" And often after sunset, sir, 
When it is light and fair, 
I take my little porringer, 
And eat my supper there. 

" The first that died was little Jane ; 

In bed she moaning lay, 50 

Till God released her of her pain ; 
And then she went away. 

"So in the church-yard she was laid ; 
And, when the grass was dry, 
Together round her grave we played, 
My brother John and I. 

42. Kerchief, French couv re-chef, from couvrir, to cover, and chef, 
head. 

47. Porringer, a bowl for porridge. The n has been inserted as in 
messenger. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 11 

" And when the ground was white with snow, 
And I could run and slide, 
My brother John was forced to go, 

And he lies by her side." 60 

" How many are you, then," said I, 
"If they two are in heaven?" 
The little maiden did reply, 
" O master ! we are seven. " 

" But they are dead; those two are dead ! 

Their spirits are in heaven !" 

'Twas throwing words away; for still 

The little maid would have her will, 

And said, " Nay, we are seven I" 

(Written, 1798 — First published, 1798.) 

Lines 

composed a few miles above tintern abbey, on revisit- 
ing the banks of the wye during a tour. 

July 13, 1798. 

Five years have past ; five summers, with the length 

Of five long winters ! and again 1 hear 

These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs 

With a sweet inland murmur. Once again 

Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, 

That on a wild secluded scene impress 

Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect 

The landscape with the quiet of the sky 

The day is come when I again repose 

Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 10 

64. The little maid's persistent child-faith in immortality is the theme of 
the poem. 

1. Tintern Abbey, which has been called by a German traveler "the most 
beautiful ruin in the world," is on the right bank of the Wye, in Monmouth- 
shire. 

This poem proclaimed a new and deeper insight into the meaning of Na- 
ture. Wordsworth thought of Nature "as something not apart from" man, 
but as "interfused" with a spirit essentially the same as that which dwelt 
in human life. Mr. Myers says: " The Lines written above Tintern Abbey 
have become, as it were, the 'locus classicus, Or consecrated formulary of 
the Words worth ian faith. They say in brief what it is the work of the 
poet's biographer to say in detail." 



12 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, 

Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, 

Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 

Among the woods and copses, nor disturb 

The wild green landscape. Once again I see 

These hedgerows— hardly hedgerows — little lines 

Of sportive wood run wild ; these pastoral farms, 

Green to the T ery door ; and wreaths of smoke 

Sent up, in silence, from among the trees, 

With some uncertain notice, as might seem 20 

Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 

Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire 

The hermit sits alone. 

These beauteous forms, 

Through a long absence, have not been to me 

As is a landscape to a blind man's eye ; 

But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din 

Of towns and cities, 1 have owed to them, 

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, 

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; 

And passing even into my purer mind, 30 

With tranquil restoration : feelings too 

Of unremembered pleasure ; such, perhaps, 

As have no slight or trivial influence 

On that best portion of a good man's life — 

His little, nameless, unremembered acts 

Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, 

To them I may have owed another gift, 

Of aspect more sublime : that blessed mood, 

In which the burden of the mystery, 

In which the heavy aud the weary weight 40 

Of all this unintelligible world, 

Is lightened ; that serene and blessed mood 

In which the affections gently lead us on, 

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 

And even the motion of our human blood 

Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 

In body, and become a living soul; 

While with an eye made quiet by the power 

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 13 

We see into the life of things. 

If this 50 

Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, 
In darkness, and amid the many shapes 
Of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir 
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart — 
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 

sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro' the woods, 
How often has my spirit turned to thee ! 

And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, 
With many recognitions dim and faint, 60 

And somewhat of a sad perplexity, 
The picture of the mind revives again ; 
While here I staud, not only with the sense 
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 
That in this moment there is life and food 
For future years. And so I dare to hope, 
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 

1 came among these hills; when like a roe 

I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides 

Of the deep rivers and the lonely streams, 70 

Wherever nature led : more like a man 

Flying from something that he dreads than one 

Who sought the thing he loved. For Nature then 

(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, 

And their glad animal movements all gone by) 

To me was all in all. I cannot paint 

What then I was. The sounding cataract 

Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, 

The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, 

Their colors and their forms, were then to me 80 

An appetite, a feeling aud a love, 

That had no need of a remoter charm, 

By thought supplied, nor any interest 

Unborrowed from the eye. That time is past, 

And all its aching joys are now no more, 

And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this 

Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur ; other gifts 



14 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

Have followed, for such loss, I would believe, 

Abundant recompense. For I have learned 

To look on Nature, not as in the hour 90 

Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes 

The still, sad music of humanity, 

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 

To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 

A presence that disturbs me with the joy 

Of elevated thoughts : a sense sublime 

Of something far more deeply interfused, 

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 

And the round ocean and the living air 

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 100 

A motion and a spirit, that impels 

All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 

And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still 

A lover of the meadows and the woods 

And mountains, and of all that we behold 

From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 

Of eye and ear, both what they half create 

And what perceive ; well pleased to recognize 

In Nature and the language of the sense 

The anchor of my purest thoughts ; the nurse, 110 

The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 

Of all my moral being. 

Nor, perchance, 
If I were not thus taught, should I the more 
Suffer my genial spirits to decay : 
For thou art with me here upon the banks 
Of this fair river ; thou, my dearest friend, 



112. "For although he is no longer his former self, no longer feels the 
same all-sufficing passion for the mere external forms and colors of Nature, 
is no longer filled with the same gladness of mere animal life ... he has 
reached a more serene and higher region ; higher because more human in 
its interest, more thoughtful in its nature, more moral in its object.*'— H. H. 
Turner. 

"The soul of the poet here comes in contact with Him Who is the author 
and upholder of Nature and of man.' 1 — Shairp. 

" The keenest eyed of all modern poets for what is deep and essential in 
nature.'' — Rtjskin. 

116. His sister Dorothy, whose life was one of continued devotion to her 
brother. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 15 

My dear, clear friend, and in thy voice I catch 

The language of my former heart, and read 

My former pleasures in the shooting lights 

Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while 120 

May I behold in thee what I was once, 

My dear, dear sister ! and this prayer I make, 

Knowing that Nature never did betray 

The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege, 

Through all the years of this our life, to lead 

From joy to joy : for she can so inform 

The mind that is within us, so impress 

With quietness and beauty, and so feed 

With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 

Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 130 

Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 

The dreary intercourse of daily life, 

Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 

Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 

Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon 

Shine on thee in thy solitary walk ; 

And let the misty mountain winds be free 

To blow against thee ; and in after-years, 

When these wild ecstacies shall be matured 

Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind 140 

Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, 

Thy memory be as a dwelling-place 

For all sweet sounds and harmonies ; oh ! then, 

If solitude or fear or pain or grief 

Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts 

Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, 

And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance 

If I should be where I no more can hear 

Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams 

Of past existence, wilt thou then forget 150 

That on the banks of this delightful stream 

We stood together ; and that I, so long 

A worshipper of Nature, hither came 

Unwearied in that service: rather say 

With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal 

Of holier love. Nor will thou then forget, 



16 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

That after many wanderings, many years 
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, 
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me 
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake. 1G0 

(1798-1798) 

The Fountain. 

A CONVERSATION. 

We talked with open heart, and tongue 

Affectionate and true — 
A pair of friends, though I was young, 

And Matthew seventy-two. 

We lay beneath a spreading oak, 

Beside a mossy seat ; 
And from the turf a fountain broke, 

And gurgled at our feet. 

"Now, Matthew," said I, "let us match 

This water's pleasant tune 10 

With some old border song, or catch, 
That suits a summer's noon ; 

41 Or of the church-clock and the chimes 
Sing here beneath the shade, 
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes 
Which you last April made. " 

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed 

The spring beneath the tree ; 
And thus the dear old man replied, 

The gray-haired man of glee : 20 

" Down to the vale this water steers, 
How merrily it goes ! 
'Twill murmur on a thousand years, 
And flow as now it flows. 

11. Catch, "a song sung in succession, where one cntches it from an- 
other. "— Johnson. 
21. Steers, holds its course ", from an old root meaning to hold steady. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. II 

M And here, on this delightful day, 
I cannot choose but think 
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay 
Beside this fountain's brink. 

" My eyes are dim with childish tears, 

My heart is idly stirred ; 30 

For the same sound is in my ears 
Which in those days I heard. 

" Thus fares it still in our decay : 
And yet the wiser mind 
Mourns less for what age takes away 
Than what it leaves behind. 

* ' The blackbird in the summer trees, 
The lark upon the hill, 
Let loose their carols when they please, 

Are quiet when they will. 40 

" With Nature never do they wage 
A foolish strife : they see 
A happy youth, and their old age 
Is beautiful and free ; 

1 'But we are pressed by heavy laws, 
And often, glad no more, 
We wear a face of joy because 
We have been glad of yore. 

" If there be one who need bemoan 

His kindred laid in earth, 50 

The household hearts that were his own, 
It is the man of mirth. 

"My days, my friend, are almost gone, 
My life has been approved ; 
And many love me, but by none 
Am I enough beloved." 

"Now both himself and me he wrongs, 
The man who thus complains. 
I live and sing my idle songs 

Upou these happy plains. GO 



18 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

" And, Matthew, for thy children dead 
I'll be a son to thee !" 
At this he grasped my hand, and said, 
" Alas ! that cannot be." 

We rose up from the fountain-side, 

And down the smooth descent 
Of the green sheep-track did we glide, 

And through the wood we went ; 

And ere we came to Leonard's rock, 
He sang those witty rhymes 70 

About the crazy old church-clock, 
And the bewildered chimes. 
(1799-1800) 

Michael. 

A PASTORAL POEM. 

If from the public way you turn your steps 
Up the tumultuous brook of Green head Ghyll, 
You will suppose that with an upright path 
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent 
The pastoral mountains front you, face to face. 
But, courage ! for around that boisterous brook 
The mountains have all opened out themselves, 
And made a hidden valley of their own. 
No habitation can be seen; but they 

Who journey hither find themselves alone 10 

With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, and kites 
That overhead are sailing in the sky. 
It is, in truth, an utter solitude ; 
Nor should I have made mention of this dell 
But for one object which you might pass by, 

72. The mingling of deep emotion and ' witty rhymes, 11 the alternation of 
sadness and lightness, gives to the poem such an uncertainty of tone, that, 
although the lines seem so baldly simple as hardly to bear repetition, its full 
charm is felt only after repeated readings. Matthew Arnold, in the preface 
to his edition of Wordsworth, says : " If I had to pick out poems of a kind 
most perfectly to show Wordsworth's unique power. I should rather choose 
poems such as Michael, Tlie Fountain, The Highland Reaper.'''' 

2. Gliyll, also spelled gill (Icelandic, gil), a deep, narrow glen. According 
to Skeat, it is from a root meaning to gape, yawn. Cj>. gills of a fish. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 19 

Might see and notice not. Beside the brook 

Appears a straggling heap of unhewn stones ; 

And to that place a story appertains 

Which, though it be ungarnished with events, 

Is not unfit, I deem, for the fireside 20 

Or for the summer shade. It was the first 

Of those domestic tales that spake to me 

Of shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men 

Whom I already loved — not, verily, 

For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills 

Where was their occupation and abode. 

And hence this tale, while I was yet a boy 

Careless of books, yet having felt the power 

Of Nature, by the gentle agency 

Of natural objects led me on to feel 30 

For passions that were not my own, and think 

(At random and imperfectly indeed) 

On man, the heart of man, and human life. 

Therefore, although it be a history 

Homely and rude, I will relate the same 

For the delight of a few natural hearts ; 

And, with yet fonder feeling, for the sake 

Of youthful poets, w T ho among these hills 

Will be my second self when I am gone. 

Upon the forest-side in Grasmere Vale 40 

There dwelt a shepherd, Michael was his name ; 
An old man, stout of heart and strong of limb. 
His bodily frame had been from youth to age 
Of an unusual strength : his mind was keen, 
Intense, and frugal, apt for all affairs, 
And in his shepherd's calling he was prompt 
And watchful more than ordinary men. 
Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds, 
Of blasts of every tone ; and oftentimes, 
When others heeded not, he heard the south 50 

Make subterraneous music, like the noise 
Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills 
The shepherd, at such warning, of his flock 
Bethought him, and he to himself would say, 



20 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

14 The winds are now devising work for me !" 

And, truly, at all times, the storm — that drives 

The traveler to a shelter — summoned him 

Up to the mountains : he had been alone 

Amid the heart of many thousand mists 

That came to him and left him on the heights. 60 

So lived he till his eightieth year was past. 

And grossly that man errs who should suppose 

That the green valleys, and the streams and rocks, 

Were things indifferent to the shepherd's thoughts. 

Fields where with cheerful spirits he had breathed 

The common air ; the hills which he so oft 

Had climbed with vigorous steps, which had impressed 

So many incidents upon his mind 

Of hardship, skill or courage, joy or fear ; 

Which, like a book, preserved the memory 70 

Of the dumb animals whom he had saved, 

Had fed or sheltered, linking to such acts 

The certainty of honorable gain — 

Those fields, those hills (what could they less ?), had laid 

Strong hold on his affections, were to him 

A pleasurable feeling of blind love, 

The pleasure which there is in life itself. 

His days had not been passed in singleness. 
His helpmate was a comely matron, old — 
Though younger than himself full twenty years. 80 

She was a woman of a stirring life, 
Whose heart was in her house. Two wheels she had 
Of antique form — this large for spinning wool, 
That small for flax ; and if one wheel had rest, 
It was because the other was at work. 
The pair had but one inmate in their house, 
An only child, who had been born to them 
When Michael, telling o'er his years, began 
To deem that he was old— in shepherd's phrase, 
With one foot in the grave. This only son, 90 

With two brave sheep-dogs tried in many a storm, 
The one of an inestimable worth, 
Made all their household. I may truly say, 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 21 

That they were as a proverb in the vale 

For endless industry. When day was gone, 

And from their occupations out of doors 

The son and father were come home, even then 

Their labor did not cease ; unless when all 

Turned to their cleanly supper-board, and there, 

Each with a mess of pottage and skimmed milk, 100 

Sat round their basket piled with oaten cakes, 

And their plain home-made cheese. Yet when their meal 

Was ended, Luke (for so the son was named) 

And his old father both betook themselves 

To such convenient work as might employ 

Their hands by the fireside ; perhaps to card 

Wool for the housewife's spindle, or repair 

Some injury done to sickle, flail, or scythe, 

Or other implement of house or field. 

Down from the ceiling, by the chimney's edge, 110 

That in our ancient uncouth country style 
Did with a huge projection overbrow 
Large space beneath, as duly as the light 
Of day grew dim the housewife hung a lamp — 
An aged utensil, which had performed 
Service beyond all others of its kind. 
Early at evening did it burn, and late, 
Surviving comrade of uncounted hours, 
Which, going by from year to year, had found, 
And left the couple neither gay, perhaps, 120 

Nor cheerful, yet with objects and with hopes, 
Living a life of eager industry. 

And now, when Luke had reached his eighteenth year, 
There by the light of this old lamp they sat, 
Father and son, while late into the night 
The housewife plied her own peculiar work, 
Making the cottage through the silent hours 
Murmur as with the sound of summer flies. 



108. Sickle and scythe are from the same root, meaning cut, which ap- 
pears in Latin as sec (English secant, section, etc ). and in Anglo-Saxon as 
sik ((}) The c in scythe is From a false spelling, the word being originally in 
Anglo-Saxon sigthe. Flail comes through French f rum the Latin flagellum y 

a whip. Its form in uld French wa&Jlael. 



22 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

This light was famous in its neighborhood, 

And was a public symbol of the life 130 

That thrifty pair had lived. For, as it chanced, 

Their cottage, on a plot of rising ground 

Stood single, with large prospect, north and south, 

High into Easedale, up to Duomail-Raise, 

And westward to the village near the lake ; 

And from this constant light, so regular 

And so far seen, the house itself, by all 

Who dwelt within the limits of the vale, 

Both old and young, was named The Evening Star. 

Thus living on through such a length of years, 140 

The shepherd, if he loved himself, must needs 
Have loved his helpmate ; but to Michael's heart 
This son of his old age was yet more dear — 
Less from instinctive tenderness, the same 
Blind spirit which is in the blood of all — 
Than that a child more than all other gifts 
That earth can offer to declining man, 
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts, 
And stirrings of inquietude, when they 

By tendency of nature needs must fail. 150 

Exceeding was the love he bare to him, 
His heart and his heart's joy. For oftentimes 
Old Michael, while he was a babe in arms, 
Had done him female service, not alone 
For pastime and delight, as is the use 
Of fathers, but with patient mind enforced 
To acts of tenderness ; and he had rocked 
His cradle with a woman's gentle hand. 

And, in a later time, ere yet the boy 
Had put on boy's attire, did Michael love — 160 

Albeit of a stern, unbending mind — 
To have the young one in his sight, when he 
Had work by his own door, or when he sat 
With sheep before him on his shepherd's stool, 
Beneath that large old oak which near their door 
Stood, and from its enormous breadth of shade 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 23 

Chosen for the shearer's covert from the sun, 

Thence in our rustic dialect was called 

The C-lipping Tree, a name which } r et it bears. 

There, while they two were sitting in the shade 170 

With others round them, earnest all and blithe, 

Would Michael exercise his heart with looks 

Of fond correction and reproof bestowed 

Upon the child, if he disturbed the sheep 

By catching at their legs, or with his shouts 

Scared them, while they lay still beneath the shears. 

And when, by Heaven's good grace, the boy grew up 
A healthy lad, and carried in his cheek 
Two steady roses that were rive years old, 
Then Michael from a winter coppice cut 180 

With his own hand a sapling, which he hooped 
With iron, making it throughout in all 
Due requisites a perfect shepherd's staff, 
And gave it to the boy ; wherewith equipt 
He as a watchman oftentimes was placed 
At gate or gap, to stem or turn the flock ; 
And, to his office prematurely called, 
There stood the urchin, as you will divine, 
Something between a hindrance and a help ; 
And for this cause not always, I believe, 190 

Receiving from his father hire of praise ; 
Though naught was left undone which staff, or voice, 
Or looks, or threatening gestures could perform. 

But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand 
Against the mountain blasts, and to the heights, 
Not fearing toil, nor length of weary ways, 
He with his father daily went, and they 
Were as companions, why should I relate 
That objects which the shepherd loved before 
Were dearer now : that from the boy there came 200 

Feelings and emanations — things which were 
Light to the sun and music to the wind ; 
And that the old man's heart seemed born again? 

169. Clipping, shearing. 

202. That is, in Michael's sight and to his ear, 



24 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

Thus in his father's sight the bey grew up : 
And now, when he had readied his eighteenth year, 
He was his comfort and his daily hope. 

While in this sort the simple household lived 
From day to day, to Michael's ear there came 
Distressful tidings. Long before the time 
Of which I speak, the shepherd had been bound 210 

In surety for his brother's son, a man 
Of an industrious life and ample means ; 
But unforeseen misfortunes suddenly 
Had prest upon him ; and old Michael now 
Was summoned to discharge the forfeiture—* 
A grievous penalty, but little less 
Than half his substance. This unlooked-for claim, 
At the first hearing, for a moment took 
More hope out of his life than he supposed 
That any old man ever could have lost. 220 

As soon as he had gathered so much strength 
That he could look his trouble in the face, 
It seemed that his sole refuge was to sell 
A portion of his patrimonial fields. 
Such was his first resolve ; he thought again, 
And his heart failed him. " Isabel," said he, 
Two evenings after he had heard the news, 
"I have been toiling more than seventy years, 
And in the open sunshine of God's love 
Have we all lived ; yet if these fields of ours 230 

Should pass into a stranger's hand, I think 
That I could not lie quiet in my grave. 
Our lot is a hard lot ; the sun himself 
Has scarcely been more diligent than I ; 
And I have lived to be a fool at last 
To my own family. An evil man 
That was, and made an evil choice, if he 
Were false to us ; and if he were not false, 
There are ten thousand to whom loss like this 
Had been no sorrow. I forgive him ; but 240 

'Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus. 
When I began, my purpose was to speak 
Of remedies, and of a cheerful hope. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 25 

Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel : the laud 

Shall uot go from us, and it shall be free ; 

He shall possess it, free as is the wind 

That passes over it. We have, thou know'st, 

Another kinsman ; he will be our friend 

In this distress. He is a prosperous man. 

Thriving in trade ; and Luke to him shall go, 250 

And with his kinsman's help and his own thrift 

He quickly will repair this loss, and then 

May come again to us. If here he stay, 

What can be done? Where every one is poor, 

What can be gained ?" At this the old man paused, 

And Isabel sat silent, for her mind 

Was busy, looking back into past times. 

There's Richard Bateman, thought she to herseli, 

He was a parish -boy ; at the church-door 

They made a gathering for him — shillings, pence, 260 

And half-pennies — wherewith the neighbors bought 

A basket, which they filled with peddler's wares ; 

And, with this basket on his arm, the lad 

Went up to London, found a master there, 

Who, out of many, chose the trusty boy 

To go and overlook his merchandise 

Be3'ond the seas ; where he grew wondrous rich, 

And left estates and moneys to the poor, 

And, at his birthplace, built a chapel floored 

With marble, which he sent from foreign lands. 270 

These thoughts, and many others of like sort, 

Passed quickly through the mind of Isabel, 

And her face brightened. The old man was glad, 

And thus resumed : "AVell, Isabel ! this scheme, 

These two days, has been meat and drink to me. 

Far more than we have lost is left us yet. 

We have enough. 1 wish, indeed, that 1 

Were younger : but this hope is a good hope. 

Make ready Luke's best garments, of the best 

Buy for him more, and let us send him forth 280 

To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night : 

If he could go, the boy should go to-night." 

Here Michael ceased, and to the fields went forth 



26 SELECTIONS FROM "WORDSWORTH. 

With a light heart. The housewife for five days 

Was restless morn and night, and all day long 

Wrought on with her best fingers to prepare 

Things needful for the journey of her son. 

But Isabel was glad when Sunday came 

To stop her in her work : for when she lay 

By Michael's side, she through the two last nights 290 

Heard him, how he was troubled in his sleep ; 

Aud when they rose at morning, she could see 

That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon 

She said to Luke, while they two by themselves 

Were sitting at the door, " Thou must not go : 

We have no other child but thee to lose, 

None to remember. Do not go away ; 

For if thou leave thy father, he will die." 

The youth made answer with a jocund voice ; 

And Isabel, when she had told her fears, 300 

Recovered heart. That evening her best fare 

Did she bring forth, and all together sat 

Like happy people round a Christmas fire. 

With daylight Isabel resumed her work ; 
And all the ensuing week the house appeared 
As cheerful as a grove in spring : at length 
The expected letter from their kinsman came, 
With kind assurances that he would do 
His utmost for the welfare of the boy ; 

To which requests were added that forthwith 310 

He might be sent to him. Ten times or more 
The letter was read over ; Isabel 
Went forth to show it to the neighbors round ; 
Nor was there at that time on English land 
A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel 
Had to her house returned, the old man said, 
" He shall depart to-morrow." To this word 
The housewife answered, talking much of things 
W^hich, if at such short notice he should go, 
Would surely be forgotten. But at length 320 

She gave consent, and Michael was at ease. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 27 

Near the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, 
In that deep valley, Michael had designed 

To build a sheepfold ; and, before he heard 
The tidings of his melancholy loss, 
For this same purpose he had gathered up 
A heap of stones, which by the streamlet's edge 
Lay thrown together, ready for the work. 
With Luke that evening thitherward he walked ; 
And soon as they had reached the place he stopped, 330 

And thus the old man spake to him : " My son, 
To-morrow thou wilt leave me : with full heart 
I look upon thee, for thou art the same 
That wert a promise to me ere thy birth, 
And all thy life hast been my daily joy. 
I will relate to thee some little part 
Of our two histories ; 'twill do thee good 
When thou art from me, even if I should speak 
Of things thou canst not know of. After thou 
First earnest into the world— as oft befalls 340 

To new-born infants — thou didst sleep away 
Two days, and blessings from thy father's tongue 
Then fell upon thee. Da}' by day passed on, 
And still I loved thee with increasing love. 
Never to living ear came sweeter sounds 
Than when I heard thee by our own fireside 
First uttering, without words, a natural tune ; 
When thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy 
Sing at thy mother's breast. Month followed month, 
And in the open fields my life was passed 350 

And on the mountains; else I think that thou 
Hadst been brought up upon thy father's knees. 
But we were playmates, Luke : among these hills, 
As well thou knowest, in us the old and young- 
Have played together, nor with me didst thou 

321. "Wordsworth's poetry is great because of the extraordinary power 
with which Wordsworth feels the joy offered to us in nature, the joy offered 

to us in the simple elementary affections and duties He can and will 

treat such a subject with nothing but the most plain, first-band, almost 
austere naturalness. 1 '— Matthew Arnold. 

11 He strove to do that which has been declared to be the true secret of 
force in art, to make the trivial serve the expression of the sublime."— 
Morley. 



28 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

Lack any pleasure which a boy can know." 

Luke had a manly heart ; but at these words 

He sobbed aloud. The old man grasped his hand, 

And said, " Nay, do not take it so ; I see 

That these are things of which I need not speak. 360 

Even to the utmost I have been to thee 

A kind and a good father. And herein 

I but repay a gift which I myself 

Received at others' hands ; for, though now old 

Beyond the common life of man, I still 

Remember them who loved me in my youth. 

Both of them sleep together. Here they lived, 

As all their forefathers had done, and when 

At length their time was come, they were not loath 

To give their bodies to the family mould. K 370 

I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived. 

But 'tis a long time to look back, my son, 

And see so little gain from threescore years. 

These fields were burdened when they came to me, 

Till I was forty years of age, not more 

Than half of my inheritance was mine. 

I toiled and toiled. God blessed me in my work, 

And till these three weeks past the land was free. 

It looks as if it never could endure 

Another master. Heaven forgive me, Luke, 380 

If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good 

That thou shouldst go. " At this the old man paused. 

Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood, 

Thus, after a short silence, he resumed : 

" This was a work for us ; and now, my son, 

It is a work for me. But lay one stone — 

Here, la} r it for me, Luke, with thine own hands. 

Nay, boy, be of good hope ; we both may live 

To see a better day. At eighty-four 

I still am strong and hale. Do thou thy part ; 390 

I will do mine. I will begin again 

With many tasks that were resigned to thee. 

Up to the heights and in among the storms 

Will I without thee go again, and do 

All works which I was wont to do alone 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 29 

Before I knew tby face. Heaven bless thee, boy ! 

Tby heart these two weeks has been beating fast 

With many hopes. It should be so. Yes, yes, 

1 knew that thou couldst never have a wish 

To leave me, Luke ; thou hast been bound to me 400 

Only by links of love. When thou art gone, 

What will be left to us ? But I forget 

My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone 

As I requested ; and hereafter, Luke, 

When thou art gone away, should evil men 

Be thy companions, think of me, my son, 

And of this moment ; hither turn thy thoughts, 

And God will strengthen thee. Amid all fear 

And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou 

Mayst bear in mind the life thy fathers lived, 410 

Who, being innocent, did for that cause 

Bemir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well ; 

When thou returnest, thou in this place wilt see 

A work which is not here — a covenant 

'Twill be between us. But whatever fate 

Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last, 

And bear thy memory with me to the grave." 

The shepherd ended here ; and Luke stooped down 
And, as his father had requested, laid 

The first stone of the sheepfold. At the sight 420 

The old man's grief broke from him ; to his heart 
He pressed his son, he kissed him and wept ; 
And to the house together they returned. 
Hushed was that house in peace, or seeming peace, 
Ere the night fell : with morrow's dawn the boy 
Began his journey ; and when he had reached 
The public way, he put on a bold face ; 
And all the neighbors, as he passed their doors, 
Came forth with wishes aud with farewell prayers, « 
That followed him till he was out of sight. 430 

A good report did from their kinsman come, 
Of Luke and his well-doing ; and the boy 
Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, 
Which, as the housewife phrased it, were throughout 



30 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

" The nrettiest letters that were ever seen." 

Both parents read them with rejoicing heaits. 

So, many mouths passed on ; and once again 

The shepherd went about his daily work 

With confident and cheerful thoughts ; and now 

Sometimes, when he could find a leisure hour, 440 

He to that valley took his way, and there 

Wrought at the sheepfold. Meantime Luke began 

To slacken in his duty ; and, at length 

He in the dissolute city gave himself 

To evil courses : ignomin}^ and shame 

Fell on him, so that he w T as driven at last 

To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas. 

There is a comfort in the strength of love ; 
'Twill make a thing endurable which else 
Would overset the brain or break the heart. 450 

I have conversed with more than one who well 
Remember the old man, and what he was 
Years after he had heard this heavy news. 
His bodily frame had been from youth to age 
Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks 
He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, 
And listened to the wind ; and, as before, 
Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, 
And for the land, his small inheritance. 
And to that hollow dell from time to time 460 

Did he repair to build the fold of which 
His flock had need. Tis not forgotten yet 
The pity which was then in every heart 
For the old man; and 'tis believed by all 
That many and many a day he thither went 
And never lifted up a single stone. 

There, by the sheepfold, sometimes was he seen, 
Sitting alone, or with his faithful dog, 
Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. 

The length of full seven years, from time to time, 470 

He at the building of this sheepfold wrought, 
And left the work unfinished when he died. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. Oi 

Three years, or little more, did Isabel 
Survive her husband. At her death the estate 
Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. 
The cottage which was named The Evening Stal- 
ls gone ; the plowshare has been through the ground 
On which it stood ; great changes have been wrought 
In all the neighborhood : yet the oak is left 
That grew beside their door ; and the remains 480 

Of the unfinished sheepfold may be seen 
Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll. 
(1800-1800) 

"My Heart Leaps Up." 

My heart leaps up when 1 behold 

A rainbow in the sky. 
So was it when my life began ; 
So is it now I am a man ; 
So be it when I shall grow old, 

Or let me die ! 
The child is father of the man ; 
And I could wish my days to be 
Bound each to each by natural piety. 
(1802-1807) 

Written in March, 

WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF BROTHER'fS- 

WATER. 

The cock is crowdng, 
The stream is flowing, 
The small birds twitter, 
The lake doth glitter, 

482. Green-head Ghyll is not far from Town-End, where Wordsworth was 
living at tne time Michael was written. Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, speaks (1832) 
of a walk with Wordsworth "up Green-head Ghyll to see the unfinished 
sheepfold, recorded in Michael.'''' 

All of Wordsworth's later critics unite in admiring this poem, considering 
the fitting of the language to the theme well-nigh perfect. The place of the 
poem, the life in the cottage and field, Luke's boyhood, the loss that comes, 
the pathetic laying of the sheepfold's corner-stone, the young man's 
departure, the brave looking up of the old man's after-life— all the parts of 
the simple tale are told with beautiful simplicity. 

4i Your teachers are wisest when they make you content in quiet virtue ; 
and that literature and art are best for you which point out, in common 
life and familiar things, the objects for hopeful labor and for humble 
love.''— Ruskin. 



32 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

The green field sleeps in the sun ; 

The oldest and youngest 

Are at work with the strongest ; 

The cattle are grazing, 

Their heads never raising ; 
There are forty feeding like one ! 10 

Like an army defeated 

The snow hath retreated, 

And now doth fare ill 

On the top of the bare hill ; 
The plowboy is whooping — anon— anon. 

There's joy in the mountains ; 

There's life in the fountains ; 

Small clouds are sailing, 

Blue sky prevailing ; 
The rain is over and gone ! 20 

(1802-1807) 

To the Daisy. 

Bright flower, whose home is everywhere ! 

A pilgrim bold in Nature's care, 

And oft, the long year through, the heir 

Of joy or sorrow, 
Methinks that there abides in thee 
Some concord with humanity, 
Given to no other flower I see 

The forest thorough! 

And wherefore? Man is soon deprest ; 

A thoughtless thing ! who, once unblest, 10 

Does little on his memory rest, 

Or on his reason ; 
But thou wouldst teach him how to find 
A shelter under every wind, 
A hope for times that arc unkind 

And every season. 

8. Thorough, another spelling of through. The longer form is found in 
Shakespeare as both a preposition and an adverb. 



(1802-1807) 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 33 

Thou wander'st the wide world about, 
Unchecked by pride or scrupulous doubt, 
With friends to greet thee, or without, 

Yet pleased and willing ; 
Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, 
And all things suffering from all, 
Thy function apostolical 

In peace fulfilling. 



The Solitary Reaper. 

Behold her, single in the field, 

Yon solitary Highland lass, 
Reaping and singing by herself ; 

Stop here, or gently pass ! 
Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 
And sings a melancholy strain ; 
Oh, listen! for the vale profound 
Is overflowing with the sound. 

No nightingale did ever chant 

So sweetly to reposing bands 10 

Of travellers in some shady haunt 

Among Arabian sands : 
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard 
In springtime from the cuckoo-bird, 
Breaking the silence of the seas 
Among the farthest Hebrides. 

Will no one tell me what she sings ? 
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 



23. "I have been censured for the last line but one— 'Thy function apos- 
tolical '—as being little less than profane. How could it be thought, so? The 
word is adopted with reference to its derivation, implying something sent on 
amission; and assuredly this little flower, especially when the subject of 
verse, may be regarded, in its humble degree, as administering both to moral 
and to spiritual purposes.' 1 — Wordsworth. 

" To Wordsworth a flower is a living partaker of the common spiritual life 
and joy of being."— Dowden. 

5. " It was harvest-time, and the fields were quietly— might I say pensively ? 
—enlivened by small companies of reapers. It is not uncommon in the more 
lonely parts of the Highlands to see a single person so employed."— Dorothy 
Wordsworth's Journal. 



34 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

For old, unhappy, far-off things, 

And battles long ago : 20 

Or is it some more humble lay, 
Familiar matter of to-day 
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, 
That has been, and may be again? 

Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang 
As if her song could have no ending ; 

I saw her singing at her work, 
And o'er the sickle bending. 

I listened till I had my fill ; 

And when I mounted up the hill, 30 

The music in my heart I bore 

Long after it was heard no more 
(1803-1807) 

To The Cuckoo. 

O blithe new-comer ! I have heard, 

I hear thee and rejoice. 
O cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird, 

Or but a wandering voice? 

While I am lying on the grass 

Thy twofold shout I hear ; 
From hill to hill it seems to pass, 

At once far off and near. 

Though babbling only to the vale 

Of sunshine and of flowers, 10 

Thou bringest unto me a tale 

Of visionary hours. 

Thrice welcome, darling of the spring ! 

Even yet thou art to me 
No bird— but an invisible thing, 

A voice, a mystery ; 

The same whom in my schoolboy days 

I listened to ; that cry 
Which made me look a thousand ways 

In bush and tree and sky. 20 



► 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 35 

To seek thee did I often rove 

Through woods and on the green ; 
And thou wert still a hope, a love — 

Still longed for, never seen. 

And I can listen to thee yet ; 

Can lie upon the plain 
And listen, till I do beget 

That golden time again. 

O blessed bird ! the earth we pace 

Again appears to be 30 

An unsubstantial, fairy place, 

That is fit home for thee ! 



(1804-1807) 



" She Was a Phantom of Delight." 

She was a phantom of delight 

When first she gleamed upon my sight ; 

A lovely apparition, sent 

To be a moment's ornament. 

Her eyes are stars of twilight fair ; 

Like twilights, too, her dusky hair ; 

But all things else about her drawn 

From May-time and the cheerful dawn — 

A dancing shape, an image gay, 

To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 10 

I saw her upon nearer view, 

A spirit, yet a woman too ! 

Her household motions light and free, 

And steps of virgin liberty ; 

A countenance in which did meet 

Sweet records, promises as sweet ; 

A creature not too bright or good 

For human nature's daily food ; 

For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 20 



32. " Of all his poems the Cuckoo is Wordsworth's own darling. "— HUTTON. 

18. " Of no other poet, except Shakespeare, have so many phrases become 
household words as of Wordsworth."— Lcwell. 



36 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

And now I see with eyes serene 
The very pulse of the machine ; 
A being breathing thoughtful breath, 
^ A traveller between life and death ; 
The reason firm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; 
A perfect woman, nobly planned, 
To warn, to comfort, and command ; 
And yet a spirit still, and bright 

With something of an angel light. 30 

(1804-1807) 

The Daffodils ; 

OR, "I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD. " 

I wandered lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

When all at once I saw a crowd, 
A host of golden daffodils ; 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that shine 

And twinkle on the milky-way, 
They stretched in never-ending line 

Along the margin of a bay : 10 

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee. 
A poet could not but be gay 

In such a jocund company ; 
I gazed and gazed, but little thought 
What wealth the show to me had brought. 

22. Hamlet u. 2, " While this machine is to him." 

30. Although, as Wordsworth says, ki the germ of this poem was four lines 
composed as a part of the verses on the Highland Girl," the subject of the 
poem is the poet's wife. 

t). •• I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones 
about them f some rested their heads on the stones as on a pillow; the rest 
tossed, and reeled, and danced, and seemed as if they verily danced with 
the wind, they looked so gay and glancing." 1 — Dorothy Wordsworth's 
Journal. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH, 37 

For oft, when on my couch I lie 

In vacant or in pensive mood, 20 

They Hash upon that inward eye 

Which is the bliss of solitude, 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 
(1804-1807) 

Ode to Duty. 

" Jam Don consilio bonus, sed more eo perductus, ut non tantum recte 
facere possim, sed nisi recte facere non possirn. 1 ' 

Stern daughter of the voice of God ! 

O Duty ! if that name thou love 
Who art a light to guide, a rod 

To check the erring, and reprove : 
Thou, who art victory and law 
When empty terrors overawe, 
From vain temptations dost set free, 
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity ! 

There are who ask not if thine eye 

Be on them ; who, in love and truth, 10 

Where no misgiving is, rely 

Upon the genial sense of youth : 
Glad hearts, without reproach or blot, 
Who do thy work and know it not : 
Long may the kindly impulse last ! 
But thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast ! 

Serene will be our days and bright, 

And happy will our nature be, 
When love is an unerring light, 

And joy its own security. 20 

And they a blissful course may hold 
Even now who, not unwisely bold, 
Live in the spirit of this creed, 
Yet seek thy firm support according to their need. 



20. Cp. Lhies above Tintern Abbey, 1. 35. 

21. 22. The poet said he owed these lines to his wife. "The two best lines 
are by Mary.' 1 



38 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

I, loving freedom, and untried — 

No sport of every random gust, 
Yet being to myself a guide — 

Too blindly have reposed my trust ; 
And oft, when in my heart was heard 

Thy timely mandate, I deferred 30 

The task, in smoother walks to stray ; 
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. 

Through no disturbance of my soul, 

Or strong compunction in me wrought, 
I supplicate for thy control, 

But in the quietness of thought. 
Me this unchartered freedom tires ; 
I feel the weight of chance desires ; 
My hopes no more must change their name, 
1 long for a repose that ever is the same 40 

Stern lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear 

The Godhead's most benignant grace ; 
Nor know we anything so fair 

As is the smile upon thy face. 
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
And fragrance in thy footing treads ; 
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; 
And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are fresh and 
strong. 

To humbler functions, awful power ! 

I call thee : I myself commend 50 

Unto thy guidance from this hour ; 

Oh, let my weakness have an end ! 



37. Unchartered, unlicensed, lawless. 

40. "In Wordsworth's ideal of human life the 'genial sense of youth 1 
is strengthened and confirmed by mature reason : the truths of early intui- 
tions become the fixed principles of later life.'' — George. 

44. To one who is under the complete sway of Duty there comes the joy of 
another freedom, the freedom of obedience, which saves from "chance 
desires " and brings repose. " Whose service is perfect freedom." — Prayer- 
Book. " As one free, as thy servant."— Epictetus. '* The Laws of God : all 
men obey these, and have no Freedom at all but in obeying them." — Car- 
lyle. 

47. Observe how Wordsworth identifies natural laws— nature's duty— with 
man's duty. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 39 

Give unto me, made lowly wise, 
The spirit of self-sacrifice ; 
The confidence of reason give, 

And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live ! 
(1805-1807; 

Laodameia. 

"With sacrifice, before the rising morn 
Performed, my slaughtered lord have I required ; 

And in thick darkness, amid shades forlorn, 
Him of the infernal gods have I desired : 

Celestial pity I again implore : 

Restore him to my sight, great Jove, restore !" 

So speaking, and by fervent love endowed 
With faith, the suppliant heavenward lifts her hands ; 

While, like the sun emerging from a cloud, 

Her countenance brightens and her eye expands ; 10 

Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows ; 

And she expects the issue in repose. 

O terror ! what hath she perceived ? O joy ! 

What doth she look on? whom doth she behold? 
Her hero slain upon the beach of Troy ? 

His vital presence ? his corporeal mould ? 
It is — if sense deceive her not — 'tis he ! 
And a god leads him, winged Mercury ! 

Mild Hermes spake, and touched her with his w T and 

That calms all fear : " Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, 20 

Laodameia, that at Jove's command 

Thy husband walks the paths of upper air ; 

He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space ; 

Accept the gift, behold him face to face !" 



56. " I would rather a child of mine should know and feel the high, imag- 
inative teachings of Wordsworth's Ode to Duty, than any piece of unin- 
spired prose morality in the language." — Reed. 

1. Students of Latin should compare this with Vergil. JEneid, vi. 2\2 

The poem shows in several places the influence of the famous sixth book of 
the .Eneid, e.g., 1. 11. vi. 40; 1. 27 (n. 794) vi. 690; I. 105, VI. 040. Wordsworth 
had been lately reading Latin with his son. 



40 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

Forth sprang the impassioned queen her lord to clasp : 

Again that consummation she essayed; 
But unsubstantial form eludes her grasp 

As often as that eager grasp was made. 
The phantom parts, but parts to reunite, 
And reassume his place before her sight. 30 

" Protesilaos, lo! thy guide is gone ! 

Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice : 
This is our palace, yonder is thy throne ; 

Speak, and the floor thou tread 'st on will rejoice. 
Not to appall me have the gods bestowed 
This precious boon, and blest a sad abode." 

' ' Great Jove, Laodameia ! doth not leave 

His gifts imperfect. Spectre though I be, 
I am not sent to scare thee or deceive ; 

But in reward of thy fidelity. 40 

And something also did my worth obtain ; 
For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain. 

" Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold 
That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand 

Should die; but me the threat could not withhold. 
A generous cause a victim did demand ; 

And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain ; 

A self-devoted chief — by Hector slain." 

" Supreme of heroes — bravest, noblest, best ! 

Thy matchless courage I bewail no more, 50 

Which then, when tens of thousands were deprest 

By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore ; 
Thou found 'st, and I forgive thee — here thou art — 
A nobler counselor than my poor heart. 

"But thou, though capable of sternest deed, 

Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave ; 
And he whose power restores thee hath decreed 

Thou shouldst elude the malice of the grave : 
Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair 
As when their breath enriched Thessalian air 60 



I f\> D O ^ *- ^\+ 

SELECTIONS FROM WORDS WORTH. 41 

"No spectre greets me— no vain shadow this ; 

Come, blooming hero, place thee by my side ! 
Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss 

To me, this day, a second time thy bride !" 
Jove frowned in heaven : the conscious Parcae threw 
Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue. 

" This visage tells thee that my doom is past : 

Know, virtue were not virtue, if the joys 
Of sense were able to return as fast 

And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys 70 

Those raptures duly, Erebus disdains ; 
Calm pleasures there abide, majestic pains. 

"Be taught, O faithful consort, to control 

Rebellious passion : for the gods approve 
The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul ; 

A fervent, not ungovernable, love. 
Thy transports moderate ; and meekly mourn 
When I depart, for brief is my sojourn." 

" Ah, wherefore ? Did not Hercules by force 

Wrest from the guardian monster of the tomb 80 

Aleestis, a reauimated corse, 

Given back to dwell on earth in beauty's bloom ? 
Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years, 
And ^Eson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers. 

" The gods to us are merciful, and they 

Yet further may relent ; for mightier far 
Than strength of nerve and sinew 7 , or the sway 

Of magic potent ovei sun and star, 
Is love, though oft to agony distrest, * 

And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast. 90 



65. Parens the fates: significant of the fixity of his doom. 

71. Erebus, the lower world. 

79. Two instances of restoration <>f the dead: Alcestis, by the power of 
Hercules, to her husband Admetus. for whom she had sacrificed her life; 
and ^-Esou, Jasons father, by Medea's supernatural powers. 



42 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

"But if thou goest, I follow."— "Peace !" be said. 

She looked upou him and was calmed and cheered ; 
The ghastly color from his lips had fled ; 

In his deportment, shape, and mien appeared 
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, 
Brought from a pensive though a happy place. 

He spake of love, such love as spirits feel 

In worlds whose course is equable and pure ; 
No fears to beat away, no strife to heal, 

The past unsigned for, and the future sure ; 100 

Spake of heroic arts in graver mood 
Revived, with finer harmony pursued ; 

Of all that is most beauteous — imaged there 

In happier beauty : more pellucid streams, 
An ampler ether, a diviner air, 

And fields invested with purpureal gleams ; 
Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day 
Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey. 

Yet there the soul shall enter which hath earned 

That privilege by virtue. " 111," said he, 110 

" The end of man's existence I discerned, 

Who from ignoble games and revelry 
Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight, 
While tears were thy best pastime, day and night : 

" And while my youthful peers before my eyes 

(Each hero following his peculiar bent) 
Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise 

By martial sports, or, seated in the tent, 
Chieftains and kings in counsel were detained ; 
What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained. 120 

" The wished-for wind was given: I then revolved 
The oracle, upon the silent sea ; 

108. Of Laodameia Hazlitt wrote: " It is a poem that might be read aloud 
in Elysium, and the spirits of departed heroes and sages would gather 
round to listen to it. 11 

122. That whoever of the Greeks first touched the Trojan shore should 
die. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 4'-) 

And, if no worthier led Hie way, resolved 

That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be 
The foremost prow in pressing to the strand, 
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. 

" Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang 

When of thy loss I thought., beloved wife ! 
On thee too fondly did my memory hang. 

And on the joys w T e shared in mortal life, 130 

The paths which we have trod — these fountains, flowers ; 
My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers. 

" But should suspense permit the foe to cry, 

' Behold, they tremble ! haughty their array, 
Yet of their number no one dares to die ? ' 

Iu soul I swept the indignity away • 
Old frailties then recurred; but lofty thought, 
Iu act embodied, my deliverance wrought. 

" And thou, though strong in love, art all too weak ; 

In reason, in self-government too slow ; 140 

1 counsel thee by fortitude to seek 

Our blest reunion in the shades below. 
The invisible world with thee hath s} r mpathized ; 
Be thy affections raised and solemnized. 

Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend 

Towards a higher object. Love was given, 
Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end ; 

For this the passion to excess was driven — 
That self might be annulled: her bondage prove 
The fetters of a dream, opposed to love." 150 

Aloud she shrieked ! for Hermes reappears ! 

Round the dear shade she would have clung— 'tis vain ; 
The hours are past, too brief had they been years— 

And him no mortal effort can detain. 
Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, 
He through the portal takes his silen* way, 
And on the palace-floor a lifeless corse she lay. 



138. That is. deliverance from the temptation of being false to his resolu- 
tion of self sacrifice. 



44 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

All, judge her gently who so deeply loved ! 

Her, who in reason's spite, yet without crime, 
Was in a trance of passion thus removed ; 160 

Delivered from the galling yoke of time 
And these frail elements, to gather flowers 
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers. 

Yet tears to human suffering are due ; 

And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown 

Are mourned by man ; and not by man alone, 

As fondly he believes. Upon the side 

Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) 

A knot of spiry trees for ages grew 

From out the tomb of him for whom she died; 170 

And ever, when such stature they had gained 

That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, 

The trees' tall summits withered at the sight : 

A constant interchange of growth and blight ! 

(1614-1815) 



To a Skylark. 

Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky ! 

Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? 
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye 

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ? 
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, 
Those quivering wings composed, that music still ! 

To the last point of vision, and beyond, 
Mount, daring warbler ! that love-prompted strain 

('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) 

Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain : 10 

Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege ! to sing 

All independent of the leafy spring. 

167. Fondly, foolishly. Fond, or fonned, is the participle of the old verb 
fonnen. to act foolishly. Chaucer has/onne, a fool. 

170. The Latin writer, Pliny, in his Natural History, tells about these 
trees, which show Nature sympathizing with num. 

11. Thy strain thrills the world below; yet it might seem, so uplifted art 
thou, to be independent of earthly influences. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 45 

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; 

A privacy of glorious light is thine, 
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a Hood 

Of harmony, with instinct more divine: 
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; 
True to the kindred points of heaven and home ! 
(1825-1827) 

Sonnets. 

Composed upon Westminster Bridge. 

Earth has not anything to show more fair. 
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by 
A sight so touching in its majesty. 
This city now doth like a garment wear 
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie 
Open unto the fields and to the sky ; 
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 
Never did sun more beautifully steep 
In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill ; 10 

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep ! 
The river glideth at his own sweet will : 
Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ; 
And all that mighty heart is lying still ! 
(1802-1807) 

Composed upon the Beach near Calais. 

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; 
The holy time is quiet as a nun 
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun 
Is sinking down in its tranquillity; 
The gentleness of heaven is on the sea 



18. That is, however high in thought they soar, the wise remain faithful 
to the homely duties that lie about them, not despising " the earth where 
cares abound." 

6. " Eyes of some men wander far'" for poetic thoughts: Wordsworth saw 
poetry in the mass of a city's buildings. " It is one of Wordsworth's poetic 
customs t<> see things ill the ideal and the real, and to make each make the 
other poetical."— Stopford Brooke. 

14 "It was this sonnet, I think, which first opened my eyes to Words- 
worth's greatness as a poet. 1 '— R. S. Watson. 



46 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, 
And doth with his eternal motion make 
A sound like thunder everlastingly. 
Dear child ! dear girl ! that walkest with me here, 
If thou appear 'st untouched by solemn thought, 10 

Thy nature is not therefore less divine. 
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; 
And worshipp'st at the temple's inner shrine, 
God being with thee when we know it not. 
(1802 1807) 



Written in London. 

O fkiend ! I know not which way I must look 
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest 
To think that now our life is only drest 
For show; mean handiwork of craftsman, cook, 
Or groom ! We must run glittering like a brook 
In the open sunshine, or we are unblestj; 
The wealthiest man among us is the best ; 
No grandeur now in nature or in book 
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, 
This is idolatry; and these we adore : 10 

Plain living and high thinking are no more. 
The homely beauty of the good old cause 
Is gone ; our peace, our fearful innocence, 
And pure religion breathing household laws. 
(1802-1807) 



6. This brief passage illustrates Wordswortlrs feeling of the " life" in Na- 
ture. In his poem, Nutting, after dragging " to earth both branch and 
bough, with crash and merciless ravage," he says, "I felt a sense of pain 
when I beheld the silent trees.' 

11. Here again, as in We are Seven and in the Ode on Intimations of Im- 
mortality, appears the poet's belief in the ki divine nature" of childhood. 

4. ''This was written immediately after my return from France to Lon- 
don, when I could not but be struck, as here described, with the vanity and 
parade of our own country, especially in great towns and cities. ,, — Words- 
worth. 

7. Compare Carlyle: "What is it that the modern English soul does in 
very truth dread infinitely, and contemplate with entire despair? With 
hesitation, with astonishment. I pronounce it to be: The terror of not suc- 
ceeding, of not making money, fame, or some other figure in the world." 



SELECTIONS PROM WORDSWORTH. 47 



"The World is too Much with Us." 

The world is too much with us ; late and soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers. 
Little we see in Nature that is ours ; 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! 
This sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; 
The winds that will be howling at all hours, 
And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers — 
For this, for everything, we are out of tune ; 
It moves us not. Great God ! I'd rather be 
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, 10 

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; 
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, 
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. 
(1S0C-1807) 

Personal Talk. 
I AM not one who much or oft delight 
To season my fireside with personal talk 
Of friends who live within an easy walk, 
Or neighbors daily, weekly, in my sight ; 
And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright, 
Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk, 
These all wear out of me, like forms with chalk 
Painted on rich men's floors for one feast-night. 
Better than such discourse doth silence long, 
Long, barren silence, square with my desire ; 10 

To sit without emotion, hope, or aim, 
In the loved presence of my cottage-fire, 
And listen to the flapping of the flame, 
Or kettle whispering its faint undersong. 

(Continued.) 
Wings have we ; and as far as we can go 
We may find pleasure : wilderness and wood, 

14. Better, according to the poet, to sre something divine in Nature, even 
though ir be of "a creed outworn," than to find the world only a place for 

"getting and spending.'" 



48 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 

Blank ocean and mere sky, support that mood 

Which with the lofty sanctities the low. 

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, 

Are a substantial world, both pure and good : 20 

liound these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, 

Our pastime and our happiness will grow. 

There find I personal themes, a plenteous store, 

Matter wherein right voluble I am, 

To which I listen with a ready ear ; 

Two shall be named, pre-eminently dear — 

The gentle lady married to the Moor ; 

And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb. 

(Concluded.) 

Nor can I not believe but that hereby 

Great gains are mine ; for thus I live remote 30 

From evil-speaking ; rancor, never sought, 
Comes to me not, malignant truth, or lie. 
Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I 
Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous thought. 
And thus from day to day my little boat 
Rocks in its harbor, lodging peaceably. 
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, 
Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares — 
The poets, who on earth have made us heirs 
Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays ! 40 

Oh ! might my name be numbered among theirs, 
Then gladly would I end my mortal days. 
(1806-1807) 

Inside of King's College Chapel, Cambridge. 

Tax not the royal saint with vain expense, 

With ill-matched aims the architect who planned, 

Albeit laboring for a scanty band 

Of white-robed scholars only, this immense 

And glorious work of fine intelligence ! 

28. Referring: to Othello and to Spenser's Faery Queen. 

37-40. On the pedestal of Wordsworth's statue in Westminster Abbe} 7 . 

1. Henry VI., who founded King's College in 1413. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 49 

Give all thou canst ; high Heaven rejects the lore 
Of nicely calculated less or more. 
So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense 
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof 
Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells, 10 

Where light and shade repose, where music dwells 
Lingering, and wandering on as loath to die ; 
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof 
That they were born for immortality. 
(1821-1822) 

Mosgiel Farm. 
" There !" said a stripling, pointing with meet pride 
Towards a low roof with green trees half concealed, 
" Is Mosgiel Farm ; and that's the very field 
Where Burns plowed up the daisy." Far and wide 
A plain below stretched seaward, while, descried 
Above sea-clouds, the peaks of Arran rose ; 
And, by that simple notice, the repose 
Of earth, sky, sea, and air was vivified. 
Beneath " the random Meld of clod or stone" 
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower 10 

Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour 
Have passed away ; less happy than the one 
That, by the unwilling plowshare, died to prove 
The tender charm of poetry and love. 
(1833-1835) 



10. Cp. II Penseroso, 1. 148. 

3. The oame of the farm where Robert Burns and his brother Gilbert 
lived for a time. 
6. Arra-n, an island across the Firth of Clyde from Ayrshire. 

9. liield, Scotch word, meaning shelter. See Burus"s beautiful poem, To 
a Mountain Daisy. 



50 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 



VARIOUS READINGS. 

We are Seven. 

1. 1798, "A simple child, dear brother Jim." Wordsworth says in a note 
that Coleridge wrote the line, " A little child, dear brother Jem."" 

44. 1836, " And sing a song to them." 

49. I follow Arnold in reading "little" for " sister." Upon what authority- 
he made the change I cannot find. 

54. 1798, " And all the summer day. 1 ' 

63. 1836, " Quick was the little maid's reply." 

Above Tintern Abbey. 

4. 1845. "sweet" changed to "soft." 

13. 1798, "Among the woods and copses lose themselves, 

Nor with their green and simple hue, disturb 

The wild green landscape." 
1845, "Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 

'Mid groves and copses." 
19. In Ed. 1798, a line followed : 

"And the low copses — coming from the trees." 
23.1798, " Though absent long 

These forms of beauty have not been to me." 
33. 1798, "As may have had no trivial influence." 
83. Arnold reads "or." 

The Fountain. 

9. 1800, " Now, Matthew, let us try to match." 

21. 1836, kk No check, no stay, this streamlet fears." 
37. 1836, " The blackbird amid leafy trees, 

The lark above the hill." 
63. 1800, " grasped his hands."- I t^ 

Michael. 

9. 1800, " No habitation there is seen; but such 
As journey thither." 

17. 1800, "There is a straggling." A/vvi^j 

18. 1836. " And to that simple object appertains 

A story— unenriched with strange events, 
Yet not unfit." 

22. 1800, " The earliest of those tales that spake to me," 
66. 1836, "hills, which with vigorous step 

He had so often climbed." 
72. Ed. 1800 had here two additional lines, with other differences. 
79. 1800, " He had a wife, a comely matron, old." 
99. 1830, "the." 
102. 1836, "the meal." 

112. 1836, " With huge and black projection overbrowed." 
123. 1800, "was in." 
125. 1836, "far." 
128. Ed. 1800 had here five more lines, which have been omitted since 1802. 

144. 1800, " Effect which might perhaps have been produced 

By that instinctive tenderness." 

145. 1836, " Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all." 

146. 1800, " or that a child." 

147. Not in edd. before 1836. 

150. Edd. 1800 to 1820 had the following additional lines: 

" From such and other causes to the thoughts 
Of the old man, his only son was now 
The dearest object that he knew on earth." 



SELECTIONS PROM AYORDSWORTH. 51 



155. 1800, " For dalliance and delight." 

158 1836, "as with." 

163. 1830, " Wrought in the field, or on his shepherd's stool 
Sate with a fettered sheep before him stretched 
Under the large old oak. that near his door 
Stood single, and, from matchless depth of shade." 

192-206 not in ed. 1800. 

207. 1800, " While tbis good household thus were living on." 

221. 1836, " As soon as he had armed himself with strength 
To look his trouble in the face, it seemed 
The shepherd's sole resource to sell at once." 

233. 1800, "itself." 

253. 1836, " He may return to us." 

304. 1800, " Next morning." 

327. 1800, " which close to the brookside." 

33^. 1836. " touch on" for " speak of." 

340. 1800, "as it befals." 

348. 1836, " while." 

373. 1800, "from sixty years." 

406. 1800 (changed in 1802) " let this sheep-fold be 

Thy anchor aud thy shield; amid all fear 

And all temptation, let it be to thee 

An emblem of the life thy fathers lived." 

424. Not till 1815. 

425. 1800, " Next morning, as had been resolved, the boy." 
450. 1800. " Would break the heart:— old Michael found it so." 
456. 1800. ''and still looked up upon the sun." 

1832, " and still looked up toward the sun." 
468, 1800, 4i with that his faithful dog." 

To the Daisy. 

1-3. 1836, " Confiding flower, by Nature's care 

Made bold. — who, lodging here or there, 
Art all the long year through the heir." 
1843. " Bright flower, whose home is everywhere, 
Bold in maternal Nature's care, 
And all the long year through the heir." 
6. ls36, "Communion with." 
17. Third stanza omitted by xVrnold. 

The Solitary Reaper. 

11 More welcome notes to weary bands." 

" No sweeter voice was ever heard." 
. " Such thrilliug voice was never heard." 

11 I listened motionless and still." 
and 1836, "And as." 

To the Cuckoo. 

5. This stanza underwent sereral changes. Ed. 1807 was as follows : 
" While I am lying on the grass, 
I bear thy restless shout: 
From hill to hill it seems to pass 
About, and all about." 
11. 1807, "To me no babbler with a tale 
Of sunshine and of flowers. 
Thou tellest. Cuckoo! in the vale 
Of visionary hours." 
1815. '• 1 hear thee babbling to the vale 
Of sunshine and of flowers ; 
And unto me thou bring'st a tale 
Of visionary hours." 



10. 


1827, 


13 


1807, 




1827. 


29. 


1830, 


30. 


1807 



52 SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 



She was a Phantom of Delight. 
8. 1836, (only) " From May-tkne's brightest, liveliest dawn." 
24. 1807, " betwixt," 
30. 1845, " of angelic light." 

The Daffodils. 

4. 1807, " A host of dancing daffodils ; 

Along the lake, beneath the trees, 
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze." 

7. This stanza did not appear till ed. 1815. 

15. In some edd., "be but." 

16. 1807, " a laughing company." 

Ode to Duty. 

8. 1807, "From strife and from despair ; a glorious ministry." 
15. 1807, " May joy be theirs while life shall Jast I 

And thou," etc. 
1836, " Oh ! if through confidence misplaced 

They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power ! around them cast.'' 
The reading here adopted is that of ed. 1827. 
21. 1807, " And blest are they who in the main 
This faith, even now, do entertain." 
24. 1807, " Yet find that other strength, according to their need." 

1836, " Yet find thy firm support." 
29. 1807, " Resolved that nothing e'er should press 
Upon my present happiness, 
I shoved unwelcome tasks away." 
1815, " And oft when in my heart was heard 
Thy timely mandate, I deferred 
The task imposed from day to day." 
40, Till 1827, "which." 

Laodameia. 

2. As in 1815. Changed in 1827 to : 

" Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired ; 
And from the infernal gods, 'mid shades forlorn 

Of night, my slaughtered lord have I required." 
45. 1815, "did not withhold." 
51. 1815, "That then." 
58. Till 1845, " That thou shouldst cheat." 

68. 1836, " Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys." 
76. 1815, " The fervor— not the impotence of love." 
82. 1827, " in vernal bloom." 
101. 1815, " Spake, as a witness, of a second birth. 

For all that is most perfect upon earth." 
122. 1815, " Our future course, upon the silent sea." 

146. 1836, *' Seeking a higher object." 

147. 1815, "for this end." 

158. Ed. 1815 (followed by Arnold and Rolfe) is adopted. 
1827, " By no weak pity might the gods be moved ; 

She who thus perished, not without the crime 
Of lovers that in reason's spite have loved, 

Was doomed to wander in a grosser clime, 
Apart from happy ghosts that gather flowers 
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers." 
Other changes were made in edd. 1832. 1843. 
1845 (followed by Knight, Morley, and George): 

" Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved, 
She perished ; and, as for a wilful crime. 
By the just gods whom no weak pity moved, 

Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, 
Apart from ? " etc. 



SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. 53 

To a Skylark. 

7. The second stanza was transferred in 1845 to another poem, A Morning 
Exercise. 
16. 1827, " with rapture." 

Composed on the Beach near Calais.' 
1. 1836, " Air sleeps,— from strife or stir the clouds are free." 

1842. " A fairer face of evening cannot be." 
Ed. 1&46 returned to 1807, as in text. 

5. 1836, " The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea." 

6. 1836, " But list !" Ed. 1842 returned to 1807. 

Personal Talk. 
12. 1807 (changed, 1815), " By my half -kitchen and half-parlor fire." 

Personal Talk. — (Continued.) 

23-25. 1807, " Then do I find a never-failing store 

Of personal themes, and such as I love best ; 
Matter wherein right voluble I am." 

26. 1807, " Two will I mention dearer than the rest." 

The reading of the latest date given above is generally that finally adopted 
by Wordsworth. Matthew Arnold, in whose opinion Wordsworth did 
"between 1798 and 1808 almost all his really first-rate work." has not hesi- 
tated, in spite of the poet's changes, to make frequent returns to earlier 
readings. The selections here published follow in the main the text of his 
edition.— J. H. D. 



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